Popped in my head when I was studying some Trig c:
WARNINGS: OC, AU, EWE, CWC
Harry Potter is not the Chosen One, no matter what that wench of a woman wrote about. I hope she enjoys her life sentence in Azkaban for showing that dribble to Muggles.
In fact, disregard everything that vile woman wrote. Hermione Granger is not a Muggle-Born and Ronald Weasley's siblings are far from men. Sirius Black is not dead, Albus Dumbledore is not dead, Severus Snape is not dead, James Potter never married Lily Evans, but rather Sirius Black. And Harry Potter is most certainly not The Chosen One.
Because I am.
The life JK wrote for him, living with relatives, losing parents, raised a Muggle, that was all mine. I don't even know who my parents were, I just live with one of their sisters and her daughter. I guess we get along, she's a year older than me and helped me when I hit puberty. Other than that, I was the maid of the house.
And that stupid woman, she stalked me for years, and then when she used my life's story, she never even put my name in the book. Anathema Averys ring a bell? Tiny little brunette, with silver eyes? Didn't think so.
I was only nine when the last book came out, and for months after reading that I had nightmares, or woke up with my scar bleeding enough to kill a normal person. Harry's fate, written in this book, was my true one. I knew I was to kill Voldemort, I'd known for a year already, but I didn't want people around me to die. If I were to ever have people as close to me as Harry had with Ron and Hermione, I'd be bloody mad at myself for leaving, even if I did come back.
But I knew that would never be.
I'd attended Salem's Academy the first Semester of my first year, until I was visited by Dumbledore. But before then, I had no friends. Well, other than a boy, Jayson, who let me borrow his notes when I missed school and would always pair himself with me during class projects. We were never close though. I don't even know his last name. And people would make fun of me, even at the age of ten and eleven. Back then, I didn't know it was unusual not to have a mother and a father.
Life at Hogwarts was simple. I went undetected for two years, making it to my fourth year without being detected. I was in Gryffindor, surprise of all surprises, and, although I went unknown and undesired by everyone, I stopped Voldemort all years I was there. In first year, I found a diary that kept trying to talk to me. To me, that was some freaky shit. I ended up taking it to Dumbledore, who got a twinkle in his eyes and took the book without questions.
The next day, he sat at the Head Table with a wrapped up ankle and a speckle of blood unwashed from his ring finger.
In second year, I got caught up in a fire with the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. The crazy bat had Voldemort living in the back of his head; I think his name was Squirrel or something. I don't know, it's been a few years. I found the whatever the name was stone and it just kinda burned his skin every time it got near him.
Well, Voldemort was another kinda temporarily dead for the time being.
That was Harry's and Hermione's and Ron's first year there. I absolutely hated it, everyone always went around asking Harry if he were really the Chosen One. And, his last name was Potter-Black. So I guess that means Lily as out of the question or something? Eugh, I didn't really care. I don't gloat about defeating Voldemort, I don't get recognized. I like it like that.
My third year, the Chamber of Secrets opened. Ron's little sister got abducted and painted 'Enemies of the Heir Beware' on the walls with Mrs. Norris' blood. Filch has never been the same. But, anyway, it became an awkward feeling in my gut every time those Weasley Twins, Franny and Georgina, glided down the hallways in front of the Potter-Black, yelling about him being the Heir, when I knew that it was me they should be scared of, me they should be asking for help. Harry ended up finding the opening to the Chamber and wormed his way down there while I was facing off with Tom. I had to hide, and made him think he was doing all those amazing things.
I don't care that it's bad to stun a man into believing he's done something.
The summer before my fourth year, I tried everything I could do to forget everything written in those stupid Harry Potter books and live my life. Eventually, I did forget. When Sarah, my cousin, asked me which book was the second and what happens I'd completely forgotten.
I'd never been that happy in my life.
Fourth year, we had a new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. Surprise. His name was Remus Lupin, and from day one, I knew he was a Werewolf. It was a bit obvious when he didn't come to class the three days surrounding the full moon, followed by constant howling at night during my Occumulency lessons. Thank god there was truly no dangerous things for me to fight that year, I think I'd pushed my limit a bit during the summer with the Dark Arts lessons Snape was putting me through. I'd gone home drained day after day, and sleep without eating for Merlin knows how many hours.
Although I did break my wand, and that stupid bastard Snape didn't take me to get a new one at Ollivander's, instead he gave me one from a student who died about fifty billion years ago, Myrtle or some shit. An old lady name.
Fifth year, my name was put in the Goblet of Fire. I think that was the first time anyone had heard my name. We also had a new DAtDA Professor, Mad Eye Moody. I'd met him before, the day that Dumbledore brought me to the Safe House. He seemed like a nice guy at the time, albeit with the exception of his repetitive, "Constant Vigilance." Something seemed off about him during the year, but it was nothing for me to worry about. I was passing the class with flying Snitches, I didn't need to pay attention. Snape led me through the whole thing, and Hagrid tipped me off about the Dragons. A quick 'Accio' to my broom helped me win that, but I honestly didn't mean to kill the Dragon. The Twin's sister, Charli, had pure torture written all over her face when Hagrid had to levitate the body out of bounds.
A boy in the year below me, Neville Longbottom, had promised me Gillyweed for the second task. The boy had gall though. Said he'd only give to me if I gave him a kiss. Properly. To which I did, without regret. The boy was cute, and knew his Gillyweed. Dumbledore had talked to me before the task, and said he didn't know who the most important person to me was. I told him to use Neville, after I got the Gillyweed, that was. After having to pull both him and that French girl's sister out, he looked as happy as my neighbor's children on Halloween. He was quite confused about why I picked him, so the night after the party that was thrown, I slept up in his dorm with him and explained how I didn't have any friends, that he was the only person I'd even talked to for longer than three days, and that I was the Chosen One, all over hot chocolate.
When Voldemort had killed that Hufflepuff boy (What the hell was a Hufflepuff doing in the freaking Triwizard Tournament, anyway? The people on their fucking Quidditch team are scared of getting hit by a bludger) and used about a half pint of my blood, bloody sod, Neville was the first one to race to my side when I limped out with Hufflepuff's body. I was put in the Hospital Wing for three weeks after that, for both the physical harm that damaged my body, and that half of the school was calling me a bloody lunatic for screaming that Voldemort was back.
I failed my O.W.L.'s. They kept on going off and on about whether or not the score we got on them would have us held back or not, and, eventually, it just did. I wasn't the only one, though. Some Chinese or Japanese or Asian or Whatthehellever chick named, like, Margaret or something got held back, too. I think she was in Ravenclaw. But really, who cares? She's just another dumbass who got held back.
That summer, my house wasn't safe. Snape had to come confiscate me a week into it because Death Eaters and Prophet Reporters kept flogging the house. He had to take me to the Weasley's house, The Burrow or Borrow or something to that nature. The house looked unsteady and horridly kept on the outside, but it was beautiful on the inside. And Mrs. Weasley, or Molly, was so nice, I didn't really know how to stand it.
I'd never been around that many people before.
All of the Weasley girls were there, Bertha, Charli, Penelope, Franny and Georgina, and Ginny, plus Charli's boyfriend and Bertha's girlfriend, who was the French girl from the Tournament. Neville came by to drop off some bird feed, and, after I jumped onto his back in happiness, he flooed home and got some stuff to stay with me.
It's a nice feeling to have a friend.
Harry Potter-Black and Hermione Granger came and stayed after a few weeks. By that time, I'd started being able to walk around the house and the outside without there being any reporters or having to grab Neville's hand for encouragement, but the minute they flooed over, I went back to my old ways. "The Chosen Ones?" were plastered on the headlines, to both mine and Harry's exasperation.
Hermione was a nice girl, with slick red hair and shining blue eyes, and had a way with words. She's extremely smart, much smarter than I'd imagined, but she wasn't good at explaining things under duress. Of all the girls in the house, she came to me when she hit her womanly time for the first time, and it took me a few minutes to decipher what she was trying to say. But after that, we hit it off. From them on, I had two friends.
Harry Potter-Black looked exactly how she had described in the books (one of the memories I couldn't forget was what the actors had looked like in the movies, explaining why it took me a minute to figure out who Hermione was), but was extremely different. His father, James Potter, had a fling with Lily Evans (so, she was in the picture at one time. Huh.), but ended up with the baby (Harry), and his husband, Sirius Black. They had three other kids, Charlus, who was a second year, Orion, who had two more years until Hogwarts, and Anathema, aged four, with another adoption going through with a Surrogate. Harry had blushed when he said his sister's name, explaining that by the time they had the baby, it was all over the tabloids of Witch Weekly who I was (one of the secrets kept out of Hogwarts by Dumbledore and Snape, I'm to guess), and that they wanted a nice and meaningful name.
I wonder if they know that Anathema means 'cursed' and 'damned' in some foreign language.
Professor Lupin and his crazy shit showed up a couple weeks before school started. They had a son, only about two or three, with lightening blue hair and purple eyes. Yeah, this kid'll be one crazy shit.
Ron Weasley, bless the poor boy, ended up in bed with me one night. Not sexually, but because he wanted to confide in a complete stranger that he was gay. Understandable, though, he had six sisters. When you grow up around "Check him out," the feeling just kinda sticks. But it was nice, because, even though he was a full two feet taller than me, he curled into my side and cuddled into my chest, falling asleep with tears in his eyes. Even after he was asleep and started to snore slightly, I ran my hands through his Weasley brown hair until I could fall asleep. I'd never had someone cuddled against me, and, oddly enough, it felt nice. The next morning I woke up to him crying into my chest, again, and helped him clean his face before we walked downstairs. Neville's eyebrows came together as Ron reached out for my hand, but I mouthed that I'd tell him later.
My second try at Fifth Year went oddly better, until that toad of a Professor took over Hogwarts. By that time, I was known to have four close friends, Harry, Hermione, Neville, and Ron, and people actually knew who the hell I was. It felt oddly nice to be known, even if I'd never wanted it.
Hermione, ever the smart one, said we should start our own club. It started with Ron suggesting The Group Of People Who Actually Want to Fight, ending with Harry suggesting Dumbledore's Army, or the DA. Hermione found a place, Hermione made the coins, Hermione did every thing. If I were a lesbian, I'd be on her like jelly on toast.
Harry hit puberty, and, damn. Damn. Damn. Damn.
Good thing I'm straight, bad thing he's trying to bang an Asian.
At the first DA meeting, we had over fifty people show up, most of them sixth and seventh years. It felt odd to be explaining things I know to people older than me, but they took it excellently, and understood almost everything. It took Neville a couple tries at the Patronus, but eventually, a ghost-like figure of the animal from his grandmum's hat shot out and flew around the room. I smiled and ruffled his hair, he blushed and stuttered a "Thank You."
Dumbledore thought it would be safer for me to stay at the Burrow for Christmas, and I couldn't help but agree. With toad lady not teaching us things we needed in DAtDA, Death Eaters were coming in left and right with their attacks, and a whole lot more were dying than there should have. It made me feel horrible, and, even though Hermione and Neville visited often, I was rather depressed for the Hols.
Harry's father and Da showed up to drop off their presents, and to fawn over me. James looked like an older doppelganger of Harry, and Sirius looked exactly like his son Charlus. Anathema was thrilled to meet me, and I, her. She had on a frilly, poofy, pink laced dress with tiny dance shoes, and I felt a pang of guilt rip through me. This little angelic looking girl had to be one of the many little girls, and possibly boys, who were innocent as this, yet were cursed with the name meaning that. Harry noticed my face and let me lean into his side, little Anathema looking at me curiously from his arms. I tweaked her nose and introduced myself. She didn't leave my side all night.
Once we were back, and DA meetings starting getting good, that little twat Malfoy snitched us. Toad lady barged into the Room of Requirements, and took us all to her office. Quite frankly, I couldn't take the woman seriously when she had plates with 'meowing' kittens on them, so I still have no bloody idea what she said.
The next day, Harry and I snuck in there to clean it up a bit, see if anybody left anything. The mirror I had put against ones of the walls, holding a picture of Hufflepuff boy, was still there, surrounded by newspaper clippings and a wand. I started getting teary eyed at the thought of having to leave this all, it had become my life, after all. Harry held me (for a short man, I'm an even shorter woman, so we just kinda fit), and kept telling me those cliche 'every thing will be okay' things.
My favorite was when we almost kissed.
Of course, it is my luck we have here, so right as our lips were mere centimeters apart, that Asian girl Harry had a crush on popped in the room. Harry tried to spring back, but I crashed him back against me in our embrace.
Take that, Ching Choung.
When she blubbered about leaving her wand, Harry angrily zoomed it across the room at her and yelled at her to leave, wrapping an arm back around me possessively.
Take that with a side of Duck Sauce, Ching Choung.
Suffice to say, the next day we were making some history.
The night after a particularly late and hard detention, Harry invited me up to his dorm, because it was just closer. The truth being he just wanted to cuddle. He's very touchy-feely. But, I accepted, and after a hasty changing into one of his Muggle dress shirts and a steamy make-out session, I woke up panting, screaming, and bleeding in his arms. I ended up waking the entire boy's dorm, and the girl first years. Harry, Ron, and Neville were by my side immediately, shaking me and hugging me to their chests.
The next week, we were in the Ministry, using one of Hermione's handy dandy Tracking Charms to hunt down this fucking sonofabitch. When we got there, Sirius (who, Harry told me afterwards, was one of the Auroras on duty when they spotted Death Eaters in the building) was already there, throwing out jinxes and curses, standing dangerously close to the Veil.
And then the fuck fell in. He just bloody fell in the Veil.
He died of fucking drapery.
Harry was distraught all summer, and, instead of going to the Burrow, I stayed at Godric's Hallow with him. As it turns out, James and Sirius had gotten their little girl, Sophia, a week prior to the accident. James and Harry were always soothing Charlus or Orion, so I spent most of my time changing diapers, playing House, and soothing night terrors. I couldn't complain, though. The Weasley's and Longbottom's and Granger's came by every day, with a home cooked meal or to give Harry his first taste of FireWhiskey. At night (quick thanks to James for allowing Harry and I to share his bed), Harry and I would sit in his bed and he'd tell me stories of Sirius. About how he was so happy when James gave him a new flying motor bike that he jumped so high he landed on a nail and broke his foot, or the look of despair on the man's face when he had to send him off to Hogwarts for the first time. Harry adored the man, and I felt the same pang of guilt when I realized it was a trap to kill him.
Couldn't take down any of my family, why not my lovers?
I'd heard that the night before, in my dreams. Voldemort kept coming to me when I slept, haunting me with the images of green lights and scarred faces. I could only guess this happens because of this stupid scar on my forehead. I hadn't told Harry, of course. I just let him hold me when I woke up panting, and, even if I explained it to his half-awake form, the words wouldn't come out. It just wasn't right to scare him after something this tragic.
All too soon, Harry and I were cuddled in a seat on the way to Hogwarts. Hermione was excitedly scribbling on a piece of parchment, her lips moving at she wrote the words, and, to my enjoyment, Neville and Ron kept shooting shy glances at each other through their fringes as they played their tiny game of Exploding Snaps. Hermione popped her lips happily and folded her parchment, writing a neat 'Remus' of the folded side and sending Hedwig off.
Dumbledore was back, and Snape was teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. I was happy for him, but at the same time, I was a bit scared. He was part Death Eater, and dead scary when he wanted to be. In place of him for Potions was Professor Slughorn, who taught Harry's parents. The man had the middle of a woman pregnant with triplets, and he excitedly rushed up to me and Harry and Hermione after the Feast to invite us to his "Slug Club." While it sounded like a club for nerds (which I was ready to voice), Harry elbowed me in the boob and Hermione answered with a "We'd be happy to." My face twisted at her fake happiness, but Slughorn just beamed and ushered us towards the Fat Lady.
Dumbledore had taken over my Dark Arts training and Occumulency lessons from Snape. I have to admit, I'd feel much safer locking eyes with periwinkle blue than coal black. It helped me, though. I know knew enough to teach Hermione and Harry.
When I came through the portrait hole, I found Ron and Neville together, sucking each others faces off. I patted Neville on the back and walked quietly back up to my dorm. Neither of them even acknowledged me.
On a Saturday, when Harry had laid out a small picnic for just him and I, Luna Lovegood came flitting up and gave me a letter from Dumbledore, then fluttered away again, muttering about Gwarfins. Harry sighed and starting picking the blanket up, but I put a hand on his arm to stop him, telling him I'd go cancel the meeting to be with him. After a few minutes, he laid the blanket back down and picked up and apple, giving me a peck on the lips for a goodbye.
In Dumbledore's office, the old man sat behind his desk gloomily. When I walked over to him, he perked up immediately, pulling my arm like an excited child and exclaiming "We're to leave right now! I've found a Horcrux!" He'd explained Horcruxes to me the week before, but the idea that someone could just rip their soul in half multiple times seemed insane.
But this is Voldemort we're talking about.
I told the man to calm down for a second, then sent his little bird off with a letter explaining to Harry we'd have to go, but that I'd be back later. And that I loved him.
That'll be a lovely topic to cover if I come back.
We ended up in a cave, Merlin knows where. The water was crazy murky, and it looked like things were floating in it. But, after Dumbledore conjured us up a boat, we were standing on this big pile of rocks, wrapped around each other to hold steady, with a little basin of water at the top. Well, it wasn't water. And I'm sure Ole Dumbley could have died from the potion, should there have been even one drop more. But it was worth it, because at the bottom, the Horcrux sat proudly. When I levitated Dumbledore back to the boat, Age laws be damned, and something moved under it, I yelped and cast a huge amount of fire into the water. A second later, bodies floated up to the surface, and one clawed my arm. I hit it with another puff of fire.
Turns out, thanks to Snape, Death Eaters were in Hogwarts. When I had limped Dumbledore back into the building, he lifted his wand and we were immediately on the top of the Astronomy Tower. He pushed me behind the big cosmic globe right in time for a flux of Death Eaters ran in.
And Draco Malfoy killed Dumbledore. I'm sure it was his first kill, because he looked constipated beyond belief when the Headmaster fell off the side.
By the time I had gotten to the bottom, Professor McGonagall had stopped me to ask me what was happening and Slughorn stopped me to blubber into my side.
Once the circle of students saw me, they immediately moved aside and let me through. Even through her tears, Asian girl sneered at me as I walked by. In the middle, Dumbledore lay, his eyes closed and his face peaceful. It broke my heart. When I leaned down to hug him to me, Harry came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, asking me quietly "Please come with us, Hagrid has to get the body," and "Honey, it's all okay." I still laid the old mans head in my lap and pulled one of his hands to my chest. Harry didn't leave my sight all night as I sat like that, even hours after the students had retired to their dorms.
I planned on leaving, just then. I planned on going up to my room and packing my bags and leaving. I was turning 17 is a week, I'm sure I could go a week without magic. I chit-chatted with Snape for a minute before Harry carried me to my dorm, and he said I could use his floo.
But them Harry carried me up to my dorm, sat me on the bed, kissed me, and said those magic words.
I love you.
Since I was little, that was what I wanted. I wanted someone to look me straight in the eye and tell me those words. And now I had them, and I was going to leave?
Shit ain't happening.
The next day, which was a free day from classes (plus the fact that student's parents were coming to claim the hell spawn), Hermione had gathered Harry, Ron, Neville, and myself in the Astronomy Tower, right above where I saw standing when Dumbledore was blasted off. She immediately asked for the necklace, and I passed it over without a second thought.
Turns out it was a fake.
R.A.B. had taken the real one, and had supposedly destroyed it, leaving behind a fake one.
Well, that was a lie. The real locket was stowed away in the bottom of James' sock drawer. R.A.B. turned out to be Sirius' brother, who died the year James and Sirius got married. Regulus (I'm glad I wasn't born into the Black family, I could never stand to be named after a star) had given it to Sirius as a marriage present, and Sirius had found it in their basement a couple months back. James took the liberty of killing the thing himself, but he broke into tears only moments when he was done.
I'd made the decision not to go back to Hogwarts the moment after I decided to stay for the rest of sixth year. I hadn't told anyone, until Hermione, Ron, Harry, and Neville came up to me and told me they didn't want to go back, and wanted me to stay with them.
Which led to us planning to go find the rest of the Horcruxes.
In Dumbledore's will, which we got a whole three months after his death, he gave me the Sword of Gryffindor. When The Minister basically refused to give it to me, Hermione started yelling at him about the Ministry and their stupid regulations, and he basically told her she needed to be a Magical Lawyer. She stormed out.
When we all got our bequest (Harry his first Snitch, Hermione a book, Ron a Delumiator, and Neville got Fawkes) and acted happy for Charli and Franky's wedding, then Disapperated away. Hermione had thrown all of our access shit in there, along with vials upon vials of PollyJuice Potion.
Let me tell you now, people, camping out, hiking, running from danger, all that shit, is just not for me. Hermione had to use twigs to conjure a bowl to stir potions so that there'd be enough healing potions for my leg every time I fell. When she brought the first one to me, the one to heal my bruised right leg, I made a mental note to steal some Polyjuice Potion and go to the muggle drug store for Ibuprofen and band-aids. That shit is nasty.
Sleeping arrangements were easy to make (Harry and I, per usual, duh, Ron and Neville, with Hermione squished between them most of the time), despite the fact that Hermione was the only one who didn't have their significant other with them. And that significant other? SHE'S GOT ONE. You heard that right. That little innocent thing had been owling Remus bloody Lupin since he broke it off with his crazy shit. And of course no one knew.
And of course I held that over her head, and planned to hold it over her head till the bitch told Harry.
We eventually got snatched-WHO WOULD HAVE THOUGHT IT, OH VAST MILES OF MOUNTAIN WE CLIMBED FOR ABSOLUTELY NO GOOD WHATSOFUCKINGEVER-and taken us to Malfoy Manor. Hermione cast a quick stunning curse on mine and Harry's face-bitch-so they couldn't identify us and kill us-still a bitch.
Of course, my wand was a fake, it still hadn't chosen me, so it still officially belonged to that girl-Moaning Myrtle, Hermione told me later; the ghost who stalks people who use the Prefect's bathroom. They couldn't recognized me-take that scraggly bitch with that creepy mane of hair. But they could recognize Harry, because he didn't loose his wand at all. Snape had to take him to the back room, where no doubt the red eyed little bastard stayed.
And after of an hour in a chamber filled with crazy people("I love you," from Ron to Neville and the other way around, "We have to live, we have to live, we have to live," from Hermione, mummbles of some weird level between Luna and Ollivander, and "Master Hary Potter is here!" from Dobby), the charm finally lifted. Lucius (I keep thinking of him as 'Luscious' because of the crazy long and obviously bleached hair) came down to get Luna for some "Happy Time", he saw my face and flipped a tit. Only a second later, that werewolf dude and some dude with hair exactly like Trixy's were hauling me off to a back room, exchanging me with Harry. He looked scared to death when we passed, but I ushered him silent with my mouth.
I was taken to Voldemort, who can kill as easily as it is to spot his nose (Seriously, why the hell doesn't he have a nose? 'Snake like features'? All I'm asking is for my enemy to have a fucking nose!). He sat there in his little plushed green chair and talked and talked and rambled on and on and on and on and on about how he will be the best Wizarding Person in history-wait, I'm in a race for that?-instead of just taking his wand out and Avada Kedavraing my ass.
And my ass is pretty big, it's not a hard thing to miss.
Then he let us all go. "For a head-start," he had stated with a sneer, twirling his hands-damn he needs a manicure-and disposing all five of us outside.
And after that was over, we decided to get our happy little asses back to Hogwarts. Horrid place it had become, we had to rescue Ginny-I really hate that bitch-and kill Snape. So, the last part was fake, we didn't intend to kill him, only hurt severely. I couldn't kill him, even if he was a (an ex?) Death Eater. He'd grown on me and Hermione. You can't just kill someone after they told me little stories about my father and mother.
That night-STILL WITH THE CAMPING-Harry ended up opening a Horcrux, and out popped the Resurrection Stone. Harry held my hand when I held the stone up and thought of the one picture I owned of my mother-after much prodding and convincing from Neville and Harry. She showed up dressed just like in the picture, too. Simple little blue Spring dress, silver hair up in a bun, and silver eyes outline in a smidgen of eyeliner. She didn't smile, something I had inherited, you could tell by looking at my stone face. Depite her emotionless face, she told me she loved me, that she never meant to die (What the hell, you can't just stop that), and asked if I wanted to know anything. I asked why my father didn't show up with her-they both died, I was told-and she informed me that he was still alive.
And it was Remus bleeding Lupin.
She dissipated after that, leaving my face with a WHATTHEHELL look and Hermione with a expression of horror. And then, just to cheer myself us, I made the comment, "I wouldn't really mind you as a step-mother, Hermione," instead of letting her explain first. After and hour of calming her down, I told her I really, honestly didn't mind at all, and she curled up between Neville and Ron.
I couldn't sleep, and neither could Harry. He disappeared for a while, went outside to mope, no doubt, but came back a little chipper-er. Behind him, the blue shimmery outline of an otter dissipated into the air. He sat on the bed, pulled my hand into his, pulled a twig-twisted into a small circle-out of his pocket, and told me he wanted to marry me. "I almost lost you back there, at the Manor," he had said, tears welling in his eyes, "and it knocked some sense into me. I want us to get married. I know there's nowhere for us to go right now to actually get married, but when this is all over, I promise that I'll get you a real ring, and let Molly plan the wedding, and you'll be mine forever." He kissed my knuckle. "What'd ya say?"
I said yes, of course, and Harry was so happy he broke down into tears on my boobs. Now, I'm not a heartless person, but I wasn't blubbering. Harry fell off me, and I had to go acquire Neville to see if he was still breathing. Hermione and Ron (this man HAS to be bottom) were jumping up and down, cooing at my twig and saying our kids would be adorable.
But, then again, any spawn of Harry and I will be drop dead sexy.
The next day, we finally get to Hogwarts. Ginny and Luna sneaked in people from the DA back in fifth year, even bringing in Molly Weasley, who immediately started planning our wedding, and James Potter-Black, who started crying into the blankets cocooning Sophia and Orion into a warm embrace. Eventually, after about a second of chit-chat, Ginny drug Remus in, a happy smile on her face. I wanted to kick her shin sofuckingbad.
He stood there, gazing between Hermione and I, confusion clear on his face. Molly nudged him towards me, but I motioned him to just go snog his girlfriend. He only got to glance at Hermione before she had glomped him and attacked his face with hers. Molly looked appalled, and Teddy, still too young to know what was going on, clapped happily in her arms. Then, he hugged me. Said he knew all along, but Dumbledore would have hurt hi if he told. James gave me a noogy, said I was a good choice in a daughter-in-law.
And then Remus fainted.
Anyway, on with the Battle. Death Eathers were absolutely everywhere, and, despite how much I hate the little poofer, I had to save Draco Malfoy's life. For two reasons, really. One, because he was about to die, and two, because he was the owner of the Elder Wand. As long as he didn't get to Voldemort-restraints brought to you by Mad-Eye-I had an honest chance of winning.
Which we did. Last minute, at the exact same time, Ron smashed the crown thing, and Neville killed the snake, resulting in me winning. Voldemort died, and little speckles of dust were near where shoes should have been.
The next year was absolute hell. I'm not good with the whole manual labor thing, so while everyone else was carrying huge ass bricks to rebuild Hogwarts, I sat in Snape's office (Headmaster, bitches) and watched the detectors light up as Muggleborns flared to life. We had to bury a whole hell of a lot of people, Ron's sister Franny being one of them. Molly was down, but she still planned mine and Harry's wedding, tiny detail to tiny detail. I mean, of course Harry and I were getting married. We were the fucking Chosen-Ones. And then, a week before our wedding, Remus and Hermione came to the Burrow with matching rings and a small baby bump.
I really don't mind that I'm older than my step-mum. The only thing that freaks me out a bit, honestly, is that my brother (It's A Boy!) and child (It Looks Like An Alien!) will grow up play mates.
Yes, you heard right. I'm pregnant. Big surprise? Didn't think so. Death Eaters were still out there, of course I was gonna jump Harry's bone every chance I got.
When my brother, Gidion Orion Lupin (What the hell Hermione?), was born, I was only two months into it and not even Harry knew. But, by the next month, when I declined FireWhiskey, Harry knew something was wrong. Of course I told him I was fine, but, even though I hadn't told him yet, he still didn't let me carry big boxes into Godric's Hallow, the place I could start calling home, even though I'm never going to spawn him enough children to fill all those extra rooms.
We decided to keep it a secret whether or not we were having a boy or a girl, but, by obligation, our doctor had to tell us we were having twins. Harry passed out, that sissy, and I almost killed the wizard, demanding the sex.
We had two baby boys, Sirius Lee and Adrian Daniel. Adrian came out a whole eight pounds 2 ounces, and Sirius was only 2 pounds 9 ounces. He had to stay in the NICU for a couple days after he was born, no visitors allowed (besides me, of course, take that Molly), but Adrian was more than happy to take up the attention his brother would have gotten.
It was fun raising them.
When they were two, I popped out a little girl, Marlene Lily. Marlene was my mothers name, and Lily had, I found out, killed herself when Harry was five. The girl was spoiled to boot, getting absolutely everything she wanted from Ron and Neville (hers, Sirius', and Adrian's godparents; lets hope Harry and I never die), and always getting her way when it came to Harry. He's such a pansy when it comes to the kids. It's kinda cute.
And then, after Marlene, we had two more. Another set of twins, damnit, Elle Palmer, who is exactly like me, no joke, and Graham Dylan. Both were shy as fuck, but I have a feeling Adrian will knock some un-insecurity into them.
Ron and Neville had two kids, one from each of them. They decided to put their sperm in a surrogate, and out popped their little ones, Alice and Angel. I was their godmother, and, I have to say, I love them like they were my own. Alice was Neville's, naturally, but she regularly called him Papa and Ron was Daddy, the same with Angel, who was obviously Ron's.
James finally decided he didn't really want another father for his kids, what with them having Hermione, who most definitely bonded with James and has always been at his side. He cried when Orion and Charlus graduated, but, by Charlus' graduation, he was already casting tiny glances at Severus, and Severus at him. They were married by the time Anathema was in fifth year.
Hermione and Remus had another one, Daniel David. Poor Hermione, she wanted a girl so bad. But I promised her she could spoil Elle as much as she wanted, which she did. Naturally. Teddy, who grew up not to be a crazy shit, rather just with a wacky sense of fashion, never got used to calling her 'Hermione', so, still o this day, he calls her his mum, despite the meetings he regularly has with his actual mum.
You know, I never thought I'd ever actually grow up to have all of this. Five kids, countless godchildren, a husband, friends.
But it did all happen.
Because, you see, Harry Potter was simply not the Chosen One.